The Next Ten Minutes
by cherrygurl1225
Summary: *SPECULATION THROUGH THE SEASON 3 FINALE* There's only ten minutes left before she's gone. Written for the hc bingo prompt "sensory deprivation" on LJ.


**Haven: The Next Ten Minutes**

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Written for the **hc_bingo prompt** "sensory deprivation" on LiveJournal. I messed with the prompt a little bit, but that's how it goes. It's not even in the order of the bingo that I want, but I'm just writing what inspires me.

This story is written based on speculation through the Season 3 finale. I have not seen the episodes yet, so NO SPOILERS, PLEASE. I'm just pretty positive she goes into that barn because every heroine that I admire on television who has to "save the world" would do the same kind of thing. This story is written based on speculation only as well as the sneak peek clips on the SyFy website, but not the episodes themselves.

Title comes from an Off Broadway play/musical entitled _The Last Five Years_, which focuses on the relationship between a man named Jamie and a woman named Cathy. The only time the two are ever on stage together is for a scene when they get married and they share a duet entitled "The Next Ten Minutes."

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_Will you share your life with me  
For the next ten minutes?  
For the next ten minutes  
We can handle that  
We could watch the waves  
We could watch the sky  
Or just sit and wait  
As the time ticks by  
And if we make it till then  
Can I ask you again  
For another ten?_

_Ten minutes_ and the sky will no longer be painted with purple and black streaks interspersed with flecks of red. It will be clear and sunny, not a cloud decorating the vast expanse of baby blue. In the next ten minutes, the world will go on living, laughing and Haven will be a town no longer sacred for those with Troubles. The Troubles will cease to exist for another twenty seven years and he'll be able to feel again.

_Nine minutes_ and he'll be able to hear again. Not the deafening crack of thunder that roars overhead or the buzzing, whirring cacophony of the meteor storm that will cause the Haven he knows to disintegrate into nothingness. Instead it will be the wind, the faint echo that lingers in the air, the whisper of promise in her voice, even though she will cease to exist.

_Eight minutes_ and he'll be able to taste again. The taste of pancake batter as it sits on the tip of his tongue. The cold, icy beer from the Gull that nearly burns as it slides down his throat in victorious defeat of the inevitable. The last piece of chocolate will dissolve as he chews and it mixes with his saliva, suddenly tasting bittersweet because she is gone.

_Seven minutes_ and he'll be able to see again. Everything will look different, but also much the same. He'll see the awards that line the walls of his office, the silver and gold trimmed plaques for his service to his town, to his community, to the Troubled. The weathered look of the badges on his police uniform, the scratches on his service weapon, the _blink_ of an e-mail alert as it pops up on his computer and the day goes on. At the end of the day, he'll put on his jacket and leave his office, not seeing the single strand of blonde hair as it falls to the floor and rests there.

_Six minutes _and Duke is yelling at him, but the words that tumble from the other man's lips do not many any logical sense. He sees Duke's mouth moving, but doesn't hear the sounds, the screams. He doesn't hear Duke's bellowing voice and almost misses the silver-eyed glint in the other man's eyes as Duke pulls him back, throwing off his balance. His mind does not comprehend Duke's actions because all he can think about is _her_ and the fearful look in her eyes, the fearful look that will be gone way too soon.

_Five minutes_ and she's shouting too. She's scared. Her body is shaking, voice cracking as she yells and hysteria seeps through. Her voice reaches him, but her body does not and the distance that separates them seems like a thousand miles too long. Yet, even in the distance, he somehow sees her tears, sees her eyes burn with equal parts fear and an unwavering determination. He wants to reach out and touch her, comfort her one last time, but he already knows her time is up.

_Four minutes_ and he wonders what he'll remember. Will he remember how they pulled guns on each other when they first met? Will he remember when she called him "tough guy" or when he bought her a jacket and mug so that she'd "fit in" with the locals? Will he remember the first time she kissed his cheek or the first time she kissed his lips? Will he remember her hugs, the way her arms wrapped around his neck with the pretense of never letting go?

_Three minutes_ and she's there. He feels her hands on his cheeks, the faint whisper of her breath on his lips before she presses her lips to his. She's there and he feels everything and nothing all in the same moment because the world around him has come to a standstill. Her hands are warm and alive against his cheeks as her fingers comb through his hair and he doesn't have time to process that all of his nerve endings momentarily spark back to life while in the comfort of her embrace. His lips explore hers almost feverishly and his hands move up quickly to dance through her blonde curls. The last embrace before she's gone.

_Two minutes_ and she's whispering to him, making him promise her. Promise her what exactly? His mind can't comprehend that either. But his mind does comprehend her next words. _"Nathan, I love you."_ And then she pulls back, pulls away. She runs toward the barn and the tingling sensation she left on his lips starts to disappear.

_One minute_ and he watches as she sprints toward the barn, opening the door and slamming it behind her. His legs want to move, want to follow her, but he remains immobile. Stuck. He can't go after her. Haven isn't a place for fairytale endings. He looks behind him and sees Duke whose eyes never leave the barn. When he looks straight ahead, the barn is dissolving, burning with bright orange flames, and he continues to stare in abject horror.

As he collapses to the ground in despair, he suddenly realizes he can feel the damp grass between his fingers and the sun, which is warm on his cheeks.

In the next ten minutes and the minutes and hours that follow, none of that matters.

_She's gone. _

_And if we make it till then  
Can I ask you again  
For another ten?_

_Fin. _


End file.
